


I Gather Up Your Incense with Spice

by torrential



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Edging, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 01:36:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4809914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torrential/pseuds/torrential
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Matt knows it says something about him that he enjoys hearing people beg.</i>
</p>
<p>The one where Matt has Foggy wear a remote-controlled plug into the office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Gather Up Your Incense with Spice

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/5006.html?thread=9243022#cmt9243022) prompt on the Daredevil Kink Meme.

Matt knows it says something about him that he enjoys hearing people beg. For what he could grant them but chooses not to. It’s a heady rush, and he’s perfectly aware of the danger of slipping under, of becoming like those he fights against. He keeps himself in check, won’t ever cross that line. His exercise of power must have a purpose.

This, however. This may be sweeter than any thug on his knees pleading for his life. Foggy can’t sit still, squirming minutely in his seat, even though moving probably makes it worse. The air is saturated with his arousal, muggy and thick like the humidity of their office. He’s sweating. Matt can taste it on his palate, clean salt and musk coating his tongue. It makes his mouth water.

The tiniest of whimpers: “ _Matt_.” Oh, he must be really far gone to risk Karen hearing him, no matter how quiet he tries to be. Matt shudders, has to collect himself even as his cock twitches. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It’s only the presence of the reception area separating their offices and Karen within it that keeps him from charging across the distance to drag his name out of Foggy’s throat again however he can, as many times as he can manage. Until Foggy’s too wrecked to manage even that and still Matt will mouth his skin, desperate for more.

Matt may have the remote control in his pocket but it’s not as if Foggy doesn’t have just as strong a power over him. He’s intoxicating. The smell of him lingering in his sheets is enough to get him hard; the memory of Foggy moaning his name can bring him to the edge. Foggy, hot and erect for him, trembling under the touch of his fingers, his mouth -- Matt licks him up and only wants more.

They’ve been playing all day. When he presents Foggy in the morning with the vibrating plug and what he wants to do, he’s met with an incredulous noise but an accompanying rise in heart rate. And Foggy doesn’t immediately laugh him out of the room, instead asks cautiously for details. Matt almost purrs.

Rules: no touching yourself. Hands off. Jerk yourself off in the bathroom and we’re done. And nothing overt while Karen’s in the office, unless you _want_ to get caught. “Eat my entire ass, Murdock,” Foggy gripes, and Matt smirks. Maybe later.

Matt also promises not to touch him beyond what’s normal, which gets a confused noise but then overall agreement. So he slicks the thing up, presses it lovingly into the depths of Foggy’s body. Makes sure it’s seated properly, gives the base a playful tap that has Foggy jerking and then growling. Matt grins at him, and they’re off.

At first Matt takes it easy on him. Lets him get used to the sensation of moving with the plug inside of him as they make their way to the office. He flicks the power on as Foggy’s in the middle of greeting Karen hello, hides a smirk at the subtle catch of breath, but turns it off just as quickly. It’s like that as they get settled into their respective offices: a few seconds of vibration, just enough to tease, and then off. Except Foggy’s reactions soon aren’t enough to satisfy Matt, so he finally turns the plug on and leaves it humming.

They do need to get some work done today, so Matt keeps it low-key during the morning. Vibrations just strong enough to be distracting, but nothing Foggy can’t handle. Maybe he throws in some short spikes for variety, just to hear Foggy whine under his breath, grind his ass into his chair, but for the most part Matt behaves himself. For the most part.

Slowly the scent of arousal builds. Foggy’s half-hard; Matt can hear the movement of cloth over his groin as he shifts occasionally in his seat, trying to get comfortable enough so he can ignore the plug and do his job. Can’t have that. Matt twists the dial up high, lets it buzz away for a few pointed seconds. He hears something clatter as Foggy yelps, clutches frantically at his desk to keep his hands off his cock.

“Did you say something?” Karen calls from her desk. Matt can hear Foggy swallow, trying to work saliva back into his throat.

“Smashed my shin into my desk, hurts like a sonovabitch.” His voice is pitched high with strain. Matt licks his lips.

“Ooh,” Karen says sympathetically. Matt takes pity on Foggy and thumbs the power down again, but leaves it at a higher setting than before. He hears Foggy mumble a swear and grins.

Matt spends most of the lunch hour with Karen out of the office twisting the dial up and down in successive waves. Foggy’s voice rises and falls in time, cursing Matt’s name while entreating for more. Sometimes Matt indulges him. Other times he does as he wishes with complete disregard for Foggy’s desires. Either way, every twitch, every word, arrows straight to his cock. Foggy is the headiest thing he’s ever encountered, almost better than running the rooftops at night or the meaty slam of flesh against his knuckles. Can’t get enough of him, and if weren’t for the self-imposed rules, Matt would have Foggy bent over his desk in a heartbeat, fucking into him for more pretty noises and gasps of pleasure, biting at his shoulders to bring blood up just under heated skin.

“You have no idea what you sound like right now,” Matt tells him, low and urgent. Karen’s due back any minute. “What you _taste_ like, even from all the way over here.”

“Fucking hate you for t-talking me into this,” Foggy manages, then groans low and heartfelt. “God, I can’t _think_ , my brain’s melting out my _ears_...”

“That’s the point,” Matt says, shifting in his own seat in an attempt to relieve the pressure of the hard-on straining against his slacks. “I want you unable to think of anything but what I’m doing to you.” He punctuates this with an increase in power, and Foggy whimpers.

The only downside to this setup is that he can’t touch Foggy as much as he’d like, in accordance with the rules. He enters his office throughout the day for one reason or another, some of them even legitimate, but the most he ventures is a hand clapped to Foggy’s shoulder, or a surreptitious caress across the back of his neck. It has to do, even when he wants to push Foggy back in his chair, reach between his legs and give him one hard stroke. Feel the damp heat gathering there, have Foggy’s scent linger on his hand for the rest of the day. But Foggy shivers even under light contact, presses into Matt’s hand, and that makes it better.

After Karen returns, Matt’s not sure how he gets anything productive done, not when more and more of his attention is diverted into monitoring Foggy. Foggy, who’s a panting sweaty mess and no longer even pretending to be working. He’s long since closed his door but Matt knows, Matt can hear him, Matt can smell him. He palms the remote, leans back and spreads his legs.

Increasing the speed is for his benefit as much as Foggy’s. The sharp, sucked-in breath, the increased trembling in his thighs, the spike in his heartbeat -- Matt is sure he’s as hard as Foggy must be, his senses inflamed with Foggy’s desire. He could come like this, right now, teasing Foggy until he shatters and following him over without ever laying a hand on himself.

It’s a careful dance. Just enough stimulus to keep Foggy on the edge, as carefully calculated as any disabling blow. Just enough to keep giving Matt what he wants. His heart’s pounding in time with Foggy’s, his breaths just as quick, and he wants to draw this out as long as possible, every stutter-step in Foggy’s pulse feeding his arousal, every uneven gasp cracking his own control.

Behind his door, Foggy is now rocking back and forth in his chair, hands braced on his desk. “Matt,” he whispers, voice cracking. “Matt, _please_ , I can’t take it anymore, I’m gonna -- I’m gonna -- _ooh_ , uh, _fuck_ , mmhh--!”

Oh yes. Matt starts to slowly ease the power up and Foggy degenerates into frantic moans of pleasure and need. “Ah -- ah -- _ah_ , yes yes yes yes Matt, oh god, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, just a little more, please please please oh _fuck_ \--!”

He picks his moment. Flicks the power completely off and bites his lower lip hard as Foggy chokes on a wail, _no no no_. Foggy’s chair creaks as his hips buck, seeking that last bit of stimulation to tip him over the edge, but Matt’s made sure to pull him back within enough time so that the sensation of his boxers over his cock or the plug pressing into him aren’t enough to finish the job.

Foggy’s noises are enough to get Karen’s attention. Matt hears her approach Foggy’s door and tips the intensity down just a hair as she opens it to ask, “Are you all right?” She sounds concerned. He hears Foggy jerk to attention, then stifle a moan. “Your face is all red.”

“Y-yeah.” He certainly doesn’t sound fine. “It’s really hot in here, you know? That’s why we need clients, so we can afford some goddamned A/C--”

Matt twitches the dial on the remote in the middle of his sentence. Just a little. Just to let Foggy know Matt’s listening. Foggy’s voice hitches but give him credit, he manages to finish what he’s saying. Impressive, when Matt knows _exactly_ how close he is to breaking.

“Mm.” Karen doesn’t sound quite convinced but she lets it go. “I think I’ll head out -- I have a dinner date with a friend from out of town.”

“S-sounds fun.” Matt tries to imagine Foggy’s expression right now, twitching as he tries desperately not to further arouse Karen’s suspicions, struggling to keep ahold of his composure long enough so that he doesn’t simply lose his goddamned mind in front of her, falling to his knees and uncaring about anything but the need to come--

He swallows, delicately. Foggy is saying something glib to Karen about escaping the clutches of her fly-by-night employers to properly live her life, and it really is an impressive string of patter given Matt just yanked him off the cusp of orgasm. He rubs his fingers against his thighs as if that will soothe the need he has to spread them over Foggy’s body, draw his heat in close.

Dimly, he hears Karen bid him good night. Calls out, “Good night, Karen.” And then her heels are moving across the carpet to the door. Through.

Almost before the door closes behind her, Foggy is lurching out of his seat and toward the entrance to his office. Matt entertains waiting, letting Foggy come to him, but no, no, he’s been patient enough already, he is not going to delay this a second longer and he nearly vaults his desk to meet him. Cranks the vibrations up to full power as he does.

Halfway across the reception area, Foggy trips. Matt barely catches him and they both end up on the floor as Foggy sags against his chest, his fingers wrapped around Matt’s upper arms with a force that’s sure to bruise. He’s making little _uh, uh, uh_ noises, quivering, and Matt realizes -- Foggy’s coming, hard. He can’t stop himself, catches his mouth in a brutal kiss to swallow the noises as Foggy shakes apart against him.

For long moments, Foggy seems incapable of speech, shaking with orgasm, tense and tight in Matt’s arms. Then, yes, oh yes -- “ _Fuck_ , Matt,” Foggy moans, so wrecked, so lovely. “Fuck, I need you, please, god, I -- oh _fuck_!” His hips jerk sporadically, like he can’t help it, pleasure puppeting his limbs. “Get this thing _out_ of me and touch me, you fucking bastard -- _hahn_!”

Matt suddenly has too many things to do at once. He fumbles the remote as he tries to open his slacks and get his aching cock free and yank Foggy’s pants and boxers down off his hips at the same time. He manages to work his own clothes open, his own touch on his cock making him hiss. Foggy yowls as Matt shoves him back onto the floor, reaches for the fastening to his pants, and _twists_. The button goes flying, the zipper teeth part, and Matt can hear the hum of the plug between Foggy’s legs. He drags Foggy’s clothing down to his knees, gets it tangled around a shoe but off one leg all the same. Foggy gamely spreads his legs for him and Matt groans.

A firm grip and twist and the plug emerges. Matt throws it aside, he doesn’t care where it lands, and pulls Foggy’s ass flush to his pelvis with a grip on his thighs. Fucks into him, loose and ready from the toy, ready for _him_ , and Foggy arches to meet him, fingers curling spasmodically into the cheap carpeting. It’s almost too dry, the only lubricant Matt’s precome, but the friction is perfect, the burn the exact answer he needs for the buildup of the day.

Matt presses Foggy’s legs back, slings them over his shoulders, leans over him on his knees. Spark to tinder, he’s already so tightly wound that it only takes three hard thrusts before he’s coming deep in Foggy’s body. Foggy’s answering mewl is absolutely delicious and Matt has to dive down to lick it from his mouth, hands planted on either side of his head as he kisses pleasure from his lips.

God, he doesn’t want to pull out. The opposite: he wants to stay like this, buried in Foggy like he means to live there. Get hard all over again and fuck him some more, suck his mark onto his body, make him beg for his touch and give him everything he asks for. Instead, Matt ends up lying comfortably on top of Foggy. He’s getting Foggy’s earlier mess on his own belly and clothes and he couldn’t care less, their scents mingling in the heated office air. Matt is going to be smelling this for days; his eyes half-close at the prospect, of hardening with every breath he takes in this space as the reminder of sex curls around his lungs and in his head. Yes.

Beneath him, Foggy laughs tiredly. “Shit, Matt... you had to rip my pants open?” Matt smirks, smug.

“I didn’t think you wanted to waste any time.”

Foggy makes to swat him upside the head but ends up finger-combing Matt’s hair in lieu. Matt’s smugness only increases. Foggy Foggy Foggy, his heart sings, mmm yes. Love Foggy.

Some of this must get across because Foggy tips Matt’s face up to kiss him. Matt fairly purrs. “Only you, Murdock,” he sighs. “But you’re still paying for my tailoring.”

“Mm-hm,” Matt singsongs, so very pleased with everything. Foggy laughs again.

“You and your bright ideas.”

“Mm- _hm_.”

“Brat.” The word is full of affection. Matt preens. “So what’re we going to do with that?”

The plug. Matt considers. He supposes one of them can take it home in his briefcase after it’s been cleaned, but why waste an opportunity? “Wear it home?” he suggests brightly.

Foggy does swat him this time. Matt just laughs.


End file.
